Fairytale of New York
by Ansy Pansy aka Panz
Summary: Kirsten and Sandy go to New York, guess who Kirsten bumps into? Kandy and sort of Carstenish but don’t be put off! Please read and review.
1. New YorkCarter?

Fairytale of New York

**Summary: **Kirsten and Sandy go to New York, guess who Kirsten bumps into? Kandy and sort of Carsten-ish but don't be put off! Please read and review.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything to do with the O.C. I'm just pretending Josh has let me borrow them as a Christmukkah present

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Not quite sure what happened here – was writing a Carsten-ish fic for my twisted girls, not pure Carsten, just them talking and how they felt and stuff and then a Kandy ending but it ran away with itself, the characters wouldn't behave and this is the result! This is the infamous 18,681 word "one-shot"…in multiple chapters! Enjoy

Thanks a ton to Em who's been there every step of the way for deep Carsten analysis, random bits of information, and encouragement at 3am! I've snagged some of your thoughts, sorry I almost killed you with the suspense. And thanks to Carlie for her early reading and suggestions, particularly the idea of a Sandy-The Nana bit.

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Fairytale of New York – New York…Carter?

'Kirsten?'

She knew that voice. She'd heard it often; serious, teasing, drunk, loving. She'd imagined it many times; affectionate, lustful, mocking her, egging her on when she debated having another glass. She'd heard it in her dreams, she'd heard it during the long summer in rehab. But it had faded to murmurs, whispers until it was barely there any longer. But she recognised it, oh she certainly did that. The tone, the intonation was different to the last time she'd heard it; a question, the hint of surprise, rather than a sorrowful, wistful sigh, but the word was the same. Her name, the last thing she'd heard him say and here she was, seven months later hearing it again. This time however, it wasn't early summer and they weren't alone in her kitchen. It was early December on a busy New York street packed with Christmas shoppers.

'Carter,' she breathed, wondering if it was her mind playing tricks and knowing it wasn't.

Kirsten debated whether to hurry on, lose herself amidst the crowds on 5th Avenue. She could pretend she hadn't heard, pretend it wasn't her. But she'd paused too long, she'd reacted to the name he'd called and part of her didn't want to walk away, try to forget him again. Part of her wanted to know how he was, and that was innocent enough she told herself.

She turned round; three feet away was a man she hadn't thought she'd see again.

A man who had almost, unintentionally broken her marriage.

A man she'd contemplated having an affair with.

A man she…well. There had been something there, whatever it was.

Carter.

Carter Buckley.

He hadn't changed. Tall, dark and handsome. Check. His shoulders still broad beneath a long coat, some of the scattered snowflakes that were floating down caught in his dark hair. His strange green-hazel eyes no different; still piercing as they searched her face.

'Carter, how are you?' she asked, putting on her best Newpsie act complete with fake smile.

'Kirsten,' was all he said as he took in the sight before him, 'Kirsten Cohen.'

She looked radiant. God he missed her. Missed those smiles she gave him, special smiles, not the false one he saw ghosting her face now, not reaching her eyes. Despite that she looked happy, looked well. Her golden hair was lightly curled; he remembered how soft it felt beneath his fingers. As always, she was immaculately dressed; pointed boots, fitted trousers, petite body enveloped in a stylish coat and matching gloves and scarf. Her California tan looked out of place in the snowy city but it gave her a healthy glow; he certainly missed that weather. The cold had made her angelic face rosy, the button nose red-tinged, her eyes pure cerulean blue against the grey, snow-laden sky. Her eyes he hesitated at. He was staring but couldn't help it; something had changed. Still blue, brighter if anything, especially in comparison to the tearful, alcohol-clouded orbs he'd left in Newport, but they were flatter somehow, they didn't go right to her soul anymore, or at least not at the moment. He couldn't tell what she was thinking. The word guarded came to mind and he wondered what she was hiding, what was wrong.

They were both oblivious to the people around them for a moment as they looked at each other. She wouldn't lie, the thought of seeing him here had crossed her mind when they'd planned to come to New York but she'd never expected it to actually happen. That was too much like fate.

'Didn't think I'd be seeing you today,' he observed. 'What brings you from sunny California?'

'Oh, Christmukkah shopping,' she replied with a laugh, forgetting how odd that sounded.

'Christmukkah?' Carter asked frowning, 'Seth?'

'Yeah.'

'Are um…he and Ryan…?'

'They're good.' God this was awkward. 'So… how's the new job?'

'It's a job. Beats working for Julie Cooper-Nichol but it doesn't beat working with you.' 'Well,' she said, refusing to let herself think about his comment, 'it was…good to see you Carter, but I should be getting on.'

'Kirsten.'

Why did his voice have the ability to make her feel embarrassed about her politeness?

'Drop the act Kirsten, you're not a Newpsie.'

He could see right through her, she gasped, wondering why she was surprised. 'Sorry Carter, I just…this is…'

'Strange? It doesn't have to be. We worked together, we were colleagues…friends. How about we grab a coffee? Catch-up?'

Catch-up? She'd rather forget. There wasn't much she wanted to recall since he'd left. She wanted to say no. Say no and walk away. Walk away and forget she'd met him. Forget the confusion in her head and the indescribable feelings in her chest. But she couldn't and it would be petulant to refuse; he was right; they had been colleagues but friends? He'd been friends with Sandy, with her it was something more complicated.

'Sure.'

'There's a great little vendor this side of Central Park; about a minute away,' he urged and she nodded. Kirsten followed Carter, glad he was so tall; it meant she could see him easily even when she fell behind in the masses of people. She'd never thought of herself as particularly small before; true Sandy could pick her up, Seth too actually, and that was saying something, but fighting her way along the swarming pavement made her feel tiny and very vulnerable.

Carter glanced back and realising Kirsten wasn't within a few yards of him, stopped and glanced worriedly along the street. She saw his anxious eyes and didn't quite know what to feel. 'I'm here,' she said, appearing beside him.

'Thought I'd lost you,' he declared, obviously relieved. There was a pregnant pause, both reflecting on an alternative meaning for the words, before Carter attempted a joke, 'The crowds can get really murderous around Christmas. Wonder what it is about this time of year that brings out the violence in people!'

Kirsten laughed, more as a way to release the tension she felt than because the comment was particularly funny. It was wasted effort because at that moment Carter extended a protective arm around her, so they could walk on without Kirsten being forced backwards by the tide of people, and it made her breath catch in her chest.

'So…um…do you go for coffee here often?' she asked.

Carter looked at her, a wry smile spreading across his features. 'Small talk Kirsten? That's not our style.'

'No,' she agreed, 'but usually I'm half a bottle in before we start really talking.'

'Sounds about right; we talked and drank for hours that night in the restaurant, when Julie disappeared…did you ever find out what that was about? ...' Carter's reminiscence was cut short by his cell phone. He pressed the end call button and began to continue before it rang demandingly again. 'Damn, I'm gonna have to take it,' he said apologetically. Kirsten nodded, thinking about 'that night in the restaurant'. She'd only just met him and yet she'd let him in. Admitted, inadvertently though it was, to taking off her rings. And he'd seen right through her. Known exactly what was going on. God forbid he still had that power. She didn't think she could cope with someone looking inside her head right now. She was having enough trouble keeping Sandy out.

Meanwhile Carter had put the phone to his ear, grimacing at the voice issuing from it. '_Makayla? How are you? Oh sorry, no, not Makayla! Jessica, Jessica, sorry, sorry. Hey do you know you sound so much like my…uh…cousin…Makayla…ye-ah. My cousin…honest. … What about Kate? No Jess, she just lives on the floor below. Come on, it's just Kate. That's it. … Fine, perhaps we have but not recently…yes she did pick up the phone last night but… Jessica, come on. …Bye then!_'

Kirsten looked at him as he glared at the phone, obviously having been hung up on. 'Girl trouble?' she asked nonchalantly.

He didn't answer, greeting one of the stall vendors with a hearty, 'Hey Billy!'

'Mr Buckley,' the old man crowed delightedly, 'how are you today? And who is this beautiful lady? You know I just can't keep up with your women, last week Abby and Serena, week before that Veronica…'

'Billy!' Carter hissed.

'I'm getting old Mr B; can't keep track. When I was a boy we had just one beau at a time…'

'_Billy_!'

'Now, now, don't get embarrassed. Girls like to know there's a bit of competition. Let me guess who this is…Tamsin is it? No?'

Carter glared at the man, contorting his face and cocking his head not-so-subtly towards Kirsten in an attempt to make him zip it.

'Dakota?'

'**_Billy_**!'

'Ok, last guess…Emma? I know you're sweet on her.'

'No! For God's sake man, I'm not that bad.'

'Mmmhmm.'

He narrowed his eyes, 'Two coffees, and for your information, this is Kirsten Cohen, my ex-_boss_ from Newport, California.'

'Kirsten huh?' he repeated, his eyes flashing recognition at the name and crinkling at the edges, 'Well it's mighty nice to meet you. Mr B talks about ya an awful lot.'

She blushed and took the coffee Carter was holding out to her. 'Come on,' he said, ushering her away from his coffee-seller-cross-confidant before Billy could share anything else with Kirsten. 'Billy, you concentrate on your coffee rather than my alleged love life,' he yelled back over his shoulder.

Kirsten took a sip of her coffee and gave the man next to her a fleeting glance, 'So all those girlfriends…' she began, the lightness of her tone an effort.

'Billy loves to exaggerate…'

'So Jessica, Makayla…Kate?'

'They're not…girlfriends as such, just…girls…women, I guess I should say, to be politically correct.'

'And since when has Carter Buckley _ever _been politically correct.'

They were back to teasing again, slipping into it like they hadn't been apart but really the jokes were just masking the awkwardness between them. After all, they were talking about Carter's girlfriends.  
Conquests, he thought. Girls to fill the time, fill the empty place inside him he'd had since leaving Newport. He'd felt it after he got divorced. He'd promised himself he wouldn't have to feel it again; he wouldn't care again. But he had.

And now here he was, going through girls like they were going out of fashion. He didn't care about them. He'd been a pig with women since he came East and he knew it but he still didn't care. Kirsten wasn't stupid, far from it, she was going to see through the multiple female companions Billy had let slip about. She was going to figure out why, why he did it.

Because he missed her.

All these women. That didn't sound like the Carter she knew. He was obviously two-timing Jessica and Makayla whoever they were. Answering the phone with the wrong name; classic mistake. She'd heard it herself.

_Julie? Oh, hi Kirsten._

_Rachel? Oh, hey honey._

_Rebecca?…Honey? Please don't hang up…_

But why was he doing it? She didn't like to think about why.

'Since when has two-timing been politically correct,' he quipped back.

'So you admit it then? You're two-timing. _Carter_!'

He didn't look up.

'There's more?' her voice was incredulous.

Carter gave a bitter laugh but his eyes were hooded with guilt.

'Three-timing?'

No answer.

'Four?...I don't even want to think about this.'

He tugged her towards the railing around the frozen pond on which people were skating. 'Ok, enough about me. The boys are good you said? What about Seth's Graphic Novel? How's that going?'

'Well he's got half of Orange County terrified he'll put them in the next one,' she joked. 'There was a launch party…that I missed but…uh, George Lucas was interested in making a film of it.'

'Wow, I'm impressed.' Carter commented, not missing the frown that shadowed her features. Why had she missed the launch? Something as big as that in her son's life she wouldn't forgo lightly.

'Seth's only minimally involved now…he and Zach had, er, artistic similarities that were causing friction…Summer, in other words.' Kirsten hesitated, feeling out of her depth; she only knew about this third-hand. She'd been far to inebriated to notice it all at the time and she still felt guilty. 'I think it all came to head on Prom night.'  
Carter laughed at that and she continued. 'They did a deal. Zach gets the comic book, Seth gets Summer.'

'Ah the age old decision; career or girl? Tough call.'

There was a silence that lasted a few seconds too long to be comfortable

'Well they're still together so…it's all good. No depressive teenage boys in the house.'

'Refusing to shower? Listening to loud cheesy music? They don't grow out of it.'

He hadn't. Except of course he had added tequila to the mix. To be truthful most of the summer had been an alcohol-fused haze.

He'd worked. Enough.  
He'd drunk. More than enough. Or perhaps not enough seeing as he still managed his thirds activity.

He'd thought about Kirsten. Too much.

The Kirsten who he'd left in Newport thinking he'd never see again and now she was here, beside him. He had to resist reaching out and touching her arm again to check she was real.

'Yeah, there hasn't been any of that. No messy break ups…yet,' she was rambling. 'Same for Ryan and Marissa so…yeah. It's all quiet on the home front recently.'

They were quickly running out of neutral topics and Carter frantically searched through his head for something else to say. 'And Ryan's brother? How's he?'

'Oh.' The change in her face was obvious and Carter knew he'd opened a can of worms.

'Sorry,' he apologised quickly, 'I didn't mean to intrude.'

'No, no, it's fine. It's just…complicated. Things got messy with him and Marissa, he and Ryan had a fight…Marissa ended up shooting him…he was, uh, in a coma for most of the summer.'

Not that I knew about it. She thought crossly. Not that I was there to help.

No. I was in _rehab_. Really helpful. Really motherly. Just what Ryan needed; another alcoholic mother.

Thoughts that Kirsten was constantly trying to suppress forced their way into the forefront of her head, tears welling up in her eyes. She took a deep breath before continuing. 'It's ok though. It all worked out; Trey woke up, neither Marissa nor Ryan were charged and he decided to leave.'

'Sounds like I left just before the fireworks started.'

'I thought that was the idea,' she muttered under her breath.

'What?'

'Nothing.'

Another silence.

'S-o-o where's Sandy?' Carter felt weird asking. He'd been friends with the guy but he…well, he had feelings for his wife.

'Sandy's visiting his mom.'

'You didn't feel like facing the mother-in-law?'

'I-I thought she and Sandy could spend some time together…and I, uh, needed to do some shopping,' she excused, before sighing. She still couldn't lie to him. 'The Nana hates me.'

'But you're okay? And Sandy…and you?' He didn't mean it to sound like he was asking about Sandy and Kirsten as a couple; it had just come out like that. And anyway, how Kirsten was depended on Sandy, he knew that.

'I'm fine…Sandy and I we're…better.' She glanced at Carter, wondering if it was her imagination that saw that look in his eyes. The one he'd left her with.

'We were…going through a rough time when you met us,' she excused, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

'I know that, but am I seriously supposed to believe that all you felt was lonely and pissed at your husband?'

'That was part of it.'

'And the other part?'

Kirsten rested her arms on the railing and buried her head in her hands.

'I…I…don't know.'

'Did you…feel _anything_? Or was it all just me? No, no Kirsten. It wasn't. There was something between us. What did I mean to you?'

'Carter, please…don't ask questions I can't answer.'

He smiled ruefully. 'I'm sorry…I just think about it. Wonder if perhaps…I've imagined something into existence that wasn't. I know I shouldn't have; you're married. But I didn't know that at first; you weren't wearing a ring remember? And by the time you told me, the disappointment couldn't stop me falling for you. Did you care Kirsten?' his voice was low and husky, those eyes penetrating.

She didn't answer for a while, watching the skaters on the ice with faraway eyes. How could she answer that? What on earth did she say? So much had happened she wasn't sure she could separate her feelings about Carter from the tangled mess inside her head.

He waited as she took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, shakily. What was wrong with Kirsten? What on earth had happened?

'I spent the summer in rehab…I think I cared, don't you?'

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	2. The fall of the Empire State Building

Fairytale of New York – The Fall of the Empire State Building

'What? Kirsten I…' Carter's head jerked up at her words.

'Of course it wasn't just to do with you; it was a typically unbelievable end to a crazy year, but you were part of it, one of the reasons, one in a long line of factors.'

The man next to her appeared speechless. She could see his eyes flitting back and forwards as he processed her words.

Kirsten Cohen, in _rehab_?

He'd known the outwardly together woman was secretly struggling, but rehab?

'I know what you're thinking. Me, rehab, how? That I would never agree to it. But when your husband has staged an intervention, your sister has compared you to your mother, you've lashed out at your son and he still doesn't turn away, it gets hard. When you try to leave and your other son blocks the way, begging you to go…I couldn't say no.'

Carter ran a hand through his hair, 'I…had no idea it was that serious.'

'A-after you left…things got worse. They were bad before; the boys leaving; that empty summer, fighting with Sandy every minute of every blessed day. Lindsay, Rebecca Bloom…you. But once you left things started to snowball.'

'I'm sorry.'

She shook her head. 'God knows what would have happened if you hadn't. I guess it was for the best but…'

'It hurt? If it's any consolation I didn't want to leave.'

'I know,' she smiled at him sadly. 'It's not your fault. If Sandy and I had been…how we used to be, we wouldn't have derailed. You…kept me going for a while; delayed the inevitable. I have to thank you; you were someone to turn to, someone who made me feel less alone. That used to be Sandy; it was us against the world. Living in a mail truck, pissing off our parents…' she trailed off as she reminisced and Carter shifted uncomfortably.

'And then we ended up back in Newport and I could never fit back in there because of Sandy but I couldn't be someone else because of where I was from. And I couldn't leave. He always made it ok; correlated my double life. And when Sandy and I stopped communicating, you did it instead.'

'So I was your replacement?'

'No…yes, oh I don't know. On the one hand you're so like Sandy and on the other…you're not…and you were there, he wasn't. But it wasn't just because you were there. It couldn't have been just anyone Carter. It was you.'

'You sure about that?'

'I don't often let people get to me Carter, and the night you left I drank half a bottle of vodka. I finished it the next day. It just seemed easier to cope that way. The following morning I added it to my tomato juice, it sounds crazy now I know but at the time I didn't think about it. That afternoon I called you and then went straight for the vodka…that night ended with me passed out on the sofa. Although I did wake up in bed; another day, another argument with Sandy, another bottle. Even Julie Cooper-Nichol was concerned but I thought I could handle it. Sandy and I argued again that night, about you.' Kirsten realised she was doing it again; telling Carter everything, pouring out her soul. He just had that effect on her; she couldn't help it.

'I'm sorry. I feel like I caused all this; the tension between you and Sandy, I…weakened your resistance to alcohol the amount of drinking we did. I left so suddenly; it can't have been easy at work, it must have made Sandy suspicious…'

'Don't. I'm tired of people apologising for things that were my fault. It was my choice to drink. Your leaving was just one more thing, one thing too many, kinda knocked me sideways into drinking more but that's all. It was the stuff that followed that tipped the scale.' She paused, staring at, but not seeing, Carter's hand over hers, his thumb stroking soothing circles. 'Part of it was the fighting with Sandy; him not listening, not understanding me. I took off, ended up in a bar, throwing back vodka martinis like James Bond. That's why I missed Seth's launch; I was too busy getting drunk.' The self-loathing in her tone was obvious. Carter knew she'd always worried about being a working mother and to know she'd become worse would completely crush her.

Kirsten sighed, 'I left your necklace at that bar after hours of deliberation. It was beautiful but…it was that or my rings and I knew I wasn't ready to take them off again just yet. That was probably my last lucid thought, getting into the car and driving certainly wasn't. Nor was talking on the cell phone but I needed to hear his voice. I had to apologise.'

'Oh God, what happened?'

'I dropped my cell, ran a red light while fumbling for it, had a near miss with and SUV only to find a two tonne truck barrelling straight at me. Kinda ironic.'

'Christ.'

'It was worse for Sandy; he heard it all; the phone was still connected. I was knocked unconscious on impact, missed the squealing brakes, the crunch, the sound of the car flipping over a couple of times. You know what else was ironic? Those rings I didn't want to take off…they had to be cut off by the paramedics.'

'You were damn lucky.'

'Concussion and sprained fingers. By the state of the car I shouldn't be here.'

His fingers tightened over hers imaging alternative outcomes. He wondered if the worst had happened whether he would have found out. Would anyone have thought to let him know? Unlikely. And he would never have known, he'd have been in NYC, thinking of her, missing her, never knowing.

'And that should have scared me out of drinking shouldn't it? Really? It should have made me mean it when I said I was done, made me get rid of _all _the alcohol. '

'It's not that easy.'

'That's what Sandy said. I chose to find out the hard way. He was so supportive but I pushed him away, my dad on the other hand, was furious. He lashed out; said the words I couldn't bear to contemplate, that I was an alcoholic. He compared me to my mother. I snapped; _I_ couldn't bear the disappointment in his eyes. There was a yelling match concluding with _'I may like my chardonnay but I won't die alone which is more than I can say for you'_.'

'Good line; you do have a taste for chardonnay.'

'No…I mean, yes I did. I guess I still do. But no, it was a terrible, terrible line. I should never have said it but I was so rattled.'

'I'm sure it was justified; you both were in your own ways.'

'The next night Sandy found my spare bottle, just in case you know, he knew I'd lied to him. We were arguing about it when the phone rang. My dad had suffered another heart attack, a fatal one.' Her eyes were cold, her face tense. Carter could hardly believe what he was hearing.

'He's dead? Caleb Nichol?'

She nodded, 'And the last thing I said to him was that he'd die alone. What kind of daughter does that? He forgave me but I never got to tell him I was sorry. I was angry, I was scared, in denial, still under the influence. But they are no excuses. I shouldn't have said those things. I basically blamed him for everything that was wrong with our family. I am never going to forgive myself for that. I'm sorry and he doesn't know, he'll never know.'

Her voice was choked with tears, her eyes glistening. It was natural to slide one arm comfortingly around her, the other found her hand and clasped it, gently steering her to a nearby bench. She sat down gratefully, leaning against him slightly as he sat by her side.

'And almost as awful is the fact I ignored Sandy, refused to let him comfort me; I took the bottle of vodka we'd been quarrelling over and went to bed. I think I spent the next few days there. I don't even really remember. Alcohol has a great way of blanking things out and that's what I wanted.'

'You were grieving.'

'I was a mess. The memory of the funeral is a fog of black and vodka. I said some bitter things to Sandy, horribly vicious things, ended the night by screaming at him publicly, smashing a vodka bottle. I'm surprised he forgave me.'

'He loves you.'

'I don't know why.'

'I do.'

Kirsten pretended she hadn't heard that, didn't want to think about it. 'So there was an intervention. It was the most humiliating event of my life. A stranger acting as though he knew me, my family pleading with me, my children watching me be driven away to a clinic.'

'But you were doing it for them.' Carter wasn't sure where these consoling comments were coming from; his mind was still reeling from the revelations.

'It doesn't matter. I still let them down.'

'You got help, that's the important thing.'

'Last year I thought 'next summer will be better' but no, it was worse. The boys didn't leave, _I _left them and that was a thousand times worse. Rehab is a challenge in so many ways, it's frightening, lonely. Don't ever go.'

He smiled sadly. He wasn't planning to; alcohol was too big a part of his life, what would he do without it?

'Letting Sandy leave me there was the hardest thing I've ever done. I had to watch him walk away and try and believe he didn't hate me, that he'd come back, for me. His alcoholic wife.' She was gripping his hand now but he didn't object. It occurred to him that despite the therapy Kirsten hadn't really come to terms with any of it. She hadn't talked about her experience, what it had felt like and she obviously needed to.

'Detox was hell in so many ways, but it was the not being able to contact my boys for seventy-two hour that really got to me. And then, finding out later that they were going through the most hellish seventy-two hours of their life at that time and I wasn't there for them. Ryan fighting with his brother, Marissa shooting Trey, Seth and Summer witnessing the aftermath. Trey ending up in a coma, Marissa being charged, the police suspecting Ryan, Sandy was trying to deal with the fallout and the legal implications, alone. I wasn't there all summer while they struggled with it. I can't forgive myself for that either.'

'You have to think about the positives; they coped, you beat it, you got home.'

'I guess. There were a couple of blips along the way. I was too scared to go home; too scared I'd relapse. I'm still afraid of that but at least now it's just always in the back of my mind rather than constantly haunting me. And I know I don't want alcohol like I used to; I spent the night in a sleazy motel room with a bottle of vodka, but I didn't drink.'

'Perhaps you should market the strategy to rehab centres.'

'Not funny.'

'I know. I think it's the lack of sunshine; it's done nothing for my sense of humour.'

It was hard to be funny when you were depressed, apart from bitter sarcasm; that seemed to come easily for some reason.

'The major problem was this woman I met; Charlotte, we seemed to have a lot in common. She really helped me in rehab, offered to let me stay with her up at Lake Arrowhead after I checked out; peace and quiet, collect my thoughts you know. After I went home we kept in touch, organised a big charity event…turned out to be all a big scam. The friendship, the alcoholism, the event, everything. She was a con. She lied and she left. Another person who lied to me, another person who left. Now I know how Ryan feels.' Kirsten narrowed her eyes, that were flashing protective anger for her son, as she thought about the woman she'd trusted.

'She made me doubt myself,' she spat. 'I didn't realise at the time but she was playing on my insecurities about relapsing, my father, going home. And she thought I was _vulnerable_. She targeted me because she thought I was.'

Carter almost laughed at the disgusted look on her face. 'She got that wrong.'

'Yeah…well, sometimes I'm not sure. I hate the idea but perhaps I am…she was half right about so many things; I _was_ afraid about going home although I still wanted to go, the reading of my dad's will had some surprises like she predicted, but the letter for me wasn't the bad part.'

'You were out of rehab by this time?'

'Yeah; it took a long time to deal with my dad's affairs; off shore accounts, hidden transfers, that kind of thing. He was always…dubious with his finances but whatever happened, at the end of the summer we didn't expect him to be broke.'

'Broke?'

'As in bankrupt, yes. I don't care about the money, it's the fact that there was nothing to show for all that hard work, all those late nights, all those missed ballet recitals, cotillions, my wedding, Seth's birth. Everything he worked for was ruined; the Newport Group about to default on its loans.'

'Oh, I'm sorry.'

'Don't apologise; you sound like I've just told you I'm divorced.'

Believe me, Carter thought, smiling at the way she'd turned his joke back on him, believe me, if you were divorced I wouldn't be apologising.

'But what mattered was the letter,' she continued. 'It was an apology and all the things I wanted him to say but he never did. And I never got to tell him how much it meant to me.' She gave a long sigh and shook the thought from her head. 'I don't think I've really answered your question. I ended up talking about the summer rather than what I…uh, felt.'

'It needed to be said, more than figuring out something that never really…'

'I'm sorry.'

'Kirsten you don't have to apologise.'

'I do. I should have been clearer about…our relationship but…I couldn't. I didn't know what it was exactly. What I wanted it to be. At Featherbrook…'

'It's ok. You had to get home.'

'And yet…part of me didn't want to.' The eyes that had been nervously meeting his hurriedly shifted away. He hesitated, wanting to ask but worried about pressing the beautiful, delicate woman next to him. 'What were you going to say that night? Before you told me about the car? He could hear her cautious voice in his head.

_Carter…_

That pause had haunted him for months. He could still feel the weight of that silence, the tension between them.

'I-' she began and then faltered but not because she couldn't remember. She remembered the night.

The way the wine made her feel.

The way Carter made her feel.

_Carter…_

Her hesitation as she looked into the eyes that were dilated into darkness by the amount of wine they'd drunk, knowing that if she didn't speak soon she might do something she wanted but would regret.

Tick. Tock.

She took a breath and made a choice, feeling sick at the waves of disappointment, and immediately following, those of guilt. 'I'm not sure if I was gonna _say_ anything.'

And Carter knew she'd been a lot closer to stepping over the line than he'd thought.

'But I couldn't…'

'So when I left…?'

'That was different. You were leaving; it seemed…safe?'

'I just couldn't leave without…'

'Knowing how it felt?'

'That sounds so…base, but yeah. We had this intangible relationship built on looks and expressions, feelings and half finished sentences and I needed to know…'

'To see what was really there; what it meant.'

'You finish my sentences better than I could.'

'So did it mean anything to you?'

'I could ask you the same question.'

'It meant something…I just couldn't again…I guess it didn't to you; you still left.'

'I had to but that doesn't mean it didn't mean anything. God Kirsten, I don't know how you can think that. You know what I did when I left? I got into my car, put my head on the steering wheel and swore. Loudly and repeatedly. Because I didn't want to leave ok? Not without you.'

'Carter-'

'I know, I know I shouldn't have but I did, because I cared, too much. So I went home, cue the tequila and noisy music. And then I flew to New York and spent the summer thinking about you.'

'I thought about you,' she gave him a sideways glance and her eyes caught his.

'You did? I guess we both had sucky summers.'

'It wasn't like I just forgot because you were gone, because I was in rehab, focussing on getting home to my husband and my boys.'

'But you tried to? Moved on.'

She sighed, at a loss for what to say.

'I couldn't forget you Kirsten.'

'Same here but rehab taught me to compartmentalise; you're in a little box in my head now.'

'Oh really?'

The mood had lifted with the honesty between them and they sat in companionable, contemplative silence for a while.

He still had hold of her hand.

-----

Let me know what you think!


	3. Not 65 in Central Park

Fairytale of New York - Not 65 in Central Park

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Shorter chapter because I didn't write this in chapters and so it was really hard to cut it up equally! Hope you like it! NB. This is set in early December, before Kirsten and Julie decide to set up business together.

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Kirsten shivered and Carter stood up and pulled her with him. 'Let's walk; it's too cold to sit here.'

'It's sixty-five degrees at home,' she muttered, her teeth chattering.

'And about sixty-six degrees less than that here.'

She laughed and they began to walk, wondering if the fact their arms were linked should concern her more than it did. But it was damn cold so she wasn't going to detach herself.

'So, how did…uh, Julie take being widowed?' Carter asked.

'Well you know Julie; she doesn't stay single for long. She almost became Julie Cooper-Nichol-Cooper by the end of the summer.' Kirsten paused and thought about what she was saying, 'This must sound crazy.'

'Well it is Newport.'

'Point taken. Do you want the full story?'

'I think I can live without. So, apart from the ever-changing intricacies of Julie Cooper-Nichol's love life, which I would rather _not_ get into, how are things in the gossip central of the USA? Any big scandals?'

'Apart from me being an alcoholic?'

'That's practically a law in the O.C. isn't it?'

'Not being a rehabilitated one and certainly not when you're Kirsten Cohen…not that I know who she is anymore.' Kirsten added to herself. Her voice was barely more than a whisper and Carter strained to hear it.

'You're still Kirsten and she is what you make her. You're still an incredible woman…strong, beautiful, intelligent…

'But not infallible.'

'Who is Kirsten? No one.'

'I suppose you're right.'

'I know I am, and I also know you're not okay, are you?'

'Are we still being honest with each other?'

'I know you can't lie.'

'No,' she admitted quietly, gently twisting the wedding rings on her finger. 'I'm not okay…but I will be.'

She'd put on her 'confident Kirsten Cohen' voice he noticed, the tone that reassured everyone, took charge and now she was using it on herself.

This wasn't Kirsten. Not the Kirsten he knew.

He wondered what the real Kirsten was like. Was there one? Or was she just a jigsaw puzzle of people she was trying to be; perfect daughter, perfect wife, perfect mother. Business woman without subordinating her family, Queen of the Newpsies without being one of them, married woman without her rings.

How many Kirsten's were there? She had a chameleon-like quality but which one of those faces was she? Who knew Kirsten? Not her. Not him. Did Sandy? Once perhaps, but not now. It had been obvious when he was in California that Sandy Cohen had no idea what was going on in his wife's head. He foolish enough to think things were fine, didn't realise his actions had really hurt his wife; that he was nowhere near forgiven, that she was holding a grudge. Sandy hadn't seen, or hadn't dreamed or dared to see anything in the intimacy between Kirsten and him, Carter, at least not until afterwards. When there was nothing more than a kiss and a whole lot of confused feelings left, when she was alone, that's when he'd rounded on her. No wonder she'd snapped.

But he couldn't deny he felt guilty blaming everything on Sandy. Kirsten hadn't made things easy.

Neither had he if he thought about it, but that was irrelevant.

This mess was between Sandy and Kirsten. He was glad he wasn't the one having to untangle it; it was hard enough trying to dissect it from the outside, or rather, from the outer edges.

So now Kirsten was hiding from it. Kirsten Cohen retreating from the fight, refusing to take a long hard look at things and find the truth? Is that what rehab did to you? Took all the fight out of you to combat your alcoholism and left you broken, a shadow of yourself?

Carter made a subconscious mental note to never cross the line. Being a borderline alcoholic suited him; the idea of having to be tee-total was terrifying. Not that he had anyone who cared enough to actually send him if it got that far.

'I'll be fine,' she insisted. 'I'll figure it out, play the part; it's easy enough. Be the wife Sandy had before, minus the obsessive working, be the mother Ryan should have had, be the mother Seth used to have. Pretend I'm not the daughter whose goodbye to her father was a screaming insult, pretend I don't hate cooking, pretend I can fit in with the Newpsies. Pretend I'm not I'm not an alcoholic, imagine I don't miss drinking like I do, pretend Rebecca Bloom never existed, make believe my husband didn't keep leaving me for her, pretend we weren't more than colleagues, convince myself last year just didn't happen.'

'You don't have to pretend Kirsten,' he told her.  
You can't pretend we weren't more.

'If I pretend I'm halfway there.'

'No you're not; it still means you're faking.'

'And at some point you forget that, if you do it long enough.'

'It doesn't change the fact it's not real.' Carter had lost the thread now but he was completely certain that forgetting you were faking didn't make something real.

'Real Carter? I live in Newport Beach. I'm surprised I even know the word.'

He frowned, where was the spark, the verve, the fire? This woman seemed lost, resigned. 'But you're different Kirsten…'

'No I'm not. I'm not sure I am anymore. It's frightening but it's true.' Carter tried to disagree but she cut him off. 'I'm a desperate housewife, I even learnt to cook. Sandy took over the Newport Group before it went completely bankrupt; he's working to make it reputable, a positive force in the community but he's being the business man, late nights, weekends at the office. Perhaps it's just jealously; I was always the breadwinner, I always had a job…now I'm just…I don't know. I'm the wife and mother that I thought I wanted to be, turns out I don't want that after all. And how horrible is that? How selfish?'

She looked despondent, weary, as he scanned her face. Being sober obviously didn't suit Kirsten. Alcoholic or depressive? Carter knew which one he would choose.

'Perhaps you're talking to the wrong person,' he said gently, hating saying it but knowing it was true.

She was married. Married. She should be saying all this to her husband. But she wasn't; she was talking to him, again, finding solace in him. And as much as he wanted to let her, he couldn't be that guy again. He couldn't watch her turn back to her husband for a second time. It hurt too damn bad.

'I can't seem to help talking to you. Sandy and I…we're not so good at talking; we didn't used to need to and now it's too hard. When you've spent twenty years communicating without words…they don't seem to come so easy.'

'The easy things aren't usually the most important.'

Kirsten looked up at the man beside her, 'Since when did you become so wise?'

He hesitated before replying, his eyes dark and fathomless 'Perhaps if…my wife had talked to me before she took of her ring my wedding anniversary wouldn't be such a dismal occasion.'

'You don't often talk about your ex.'

'I don't often have sentimental thoughts; usually they're not fit for polite company.'

She recognised the tone, the forced joke. It signalled that the subject was closed and she didn't want to pry, she didn't want to know; she liked it better that way. Knowing more about it would just make her think, compare the situation to her own, wonder about Carter, question why he left.  
Did his wife have an affair? Did he?

Did they just reach the end of the road?

Did he leave because he didn't want the same to happen to her and Sandy? Did he care that much about her?

Did he still love his ex-wife beneath those barbed comments and bitter insults? Was the carefree attitude all an act? Beneath that was the Carter she'd found drowning in self-pity and tequila on his anniversary.

Is that why he drank so much? Because he was still hurting? Trying to numb the pain?

Kirsten knew that one.

They were both damaged, he just hid it better. She'd past breaking point and shattered while he fought it, angry and intoxicated.

Impulsively she pulled him towards her, wrapping her arms around him in an involuntary hug. He slowly reciprocated the gesture, holding her close and guiltily relishing the contact, the way she fit into his arms, the scent of her hair.

They broke apart gently, Kirsten looking nervous, 'So-…' she began.

'Don't apologise; I needed that.'

'Me too.'

The pair stood looking at each other for a few long seconds before they both tried to talk at once.

'I…'

'You…'

Carter smiled and gestured for Kirsten to finish.

'I hate to say it but I really _have_ to go now.'

'Yeah, it's getting late…Well, this is goodbye then,' he said, looking down at the sapphire eyes before him and being surprised to find them glistening.

'I suppose it is.'

'Déjà vu?' he joked.

She laughed sadly and nodded. 'Goodbye Carter.'

'I'm haven't stop missing you yet and now I'm gonna miss you all over again.'

Kirsten bit her lip, unable to reply. She lent forward and slowly pressed her lips against his cheek, lingering for a moment as she regained her composure and breathed in the scent of his aftershave. Her eyes cast down she drew back, his last words rumbling softly in her ears. The words he'd said the last time they'd said goodbye, words that she could still hear sometimes when she shut her eyes and thought of him.

'So long Kirsten.'

-------

And that, as they say, was that. Oh we mourn what could have been, but it was not to be, prepare yourself for angsty Kandy for I am afraid…the Carsten has left the building! Please review


	4. Ground Zero

Fairytale of New York – Ground Zero

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A long chapter, because I'm nice! Let the Kandy angst begin.

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Kirsten didn't expect Sandy to be back when she arrived at the hotel. His quiet 'Hey sweetie,' startled her as she opened the door causing her to drop the card-key. Flustered she cursed under her breath and reached to pick it up.

'What? No bags?' Sandy asked when she straightened up. 'You went out shopping and didn't buy anything? Honey, are you feeling ok?'

'I'm fine Sandy,' she told him, brushing past and heading for the bedroom. She just really wanted to be alone. He caught her in the doorway, trapping her there and forcing her to look at him and pressing his palm against her forehead. 'You sure?'

'Yes, _yes_,' she insisted, 'just tired. 5th Avenue was madness that's all.'

'New York crowds always get murderous around Christmas,' he quipped. Kirsten forced a smile. Same joke. They even told the same jokes.

'How was your mom?' she asked, desperate to take the focus of her.

Sandy saw straight through it, 'You're changing the subject,' he warned, relenting as she stalked into the en suite. 'But seeing as you asked, Sophie Cohen is fine, feisty as ever. Still thinks California is hell, still complaining that I don't visit her enough, still wants to see more of the boys,'

'Still hates me?' Kirsten asked as she splashed her face with water.

'Aw honey,' Sandy called, 'you know, she doesn't hate you she just…'

'Hates me, don't try to deny it Sandy. Was she mad that I didn't come?' She studied her dripping reflection in the mirror, impressed that she could play such a charade; continue the light-hearted conversation with her husband while she felt like this. Confused, threatened, helpless. She wasn't really sure. Carter's image was on the mirror; scenes of the two of them flashing before her eyes. She thought she was past this.

'Ah you know my mother; she was only mad that you weren't there for her to pick on. She'd have been just as cross if you had come.'

Kirsten buried her face in a towel, breathing in the scent of the detergent with ragged breaths, hoping it would calm her, stop the tears she could feel pricking her eyelids. She hadn't realised Sandy had been watching until he was beside her, one hand at the small of her back, the other prising the towel from her grasp. 'Kirsten baby, what's wrong? And don't say nothing; you look like you've seen a ghost.'

Despite herself, Kirsten found she was crying. Sandy locked his arms around his wife and propelled her towards the bed. They sat there for a while before she lifted her head from his neck and smoothed the damp patch on his shirt. 'Sorry,' she muttered, hastily rubbing the tears stains from her cheeks, 'being stupid.'

'No, no you're not. What's up?'

She was hesitating and he could see it, quickly lacing his finger with hers, 'You can tell me,' he murmured trying to catch her eye, 'you can tell me anything.'

'I know, I just…' she took a deep breath, 'I saw Carter today.'

'Oh,' he wasn't sure how he felt about that, 'um…how…is he? I mean, I was friends with the guy…but then of course I accused you of having an affair with him, so I don't really know what I…uh…'

'I don't know either. He was fine, good, enjoying the new job. I just…don't know how I feel. It was so weird. He was part of last year, well, you know what I mean; part of everything that went wrong….before the summer.'

'Before rehab,' Sandy observed.

'Yeah. And I had to tell him, when we used drink together, drank a lot actually so…it was hard.'

'Honey, you're so brave. I understand how awkward it would be seeing him again. His leaving was one of the things that made everything worse wasn't it? I'm not trying to shift blame from myself Kirsten but I'm right aren't I?'

She nodded. He was there when it was hard…and then he was gone.'

'I should have been there, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.'

'I know; we've been through this. I don't need more apologies.'

'But I need to say them. I'm still guilty.'

Kirsten closed her eyes, 'There's something else,' she didn't pause long enough for Sandy to comment. 'We never finished that talk about Carter and I; I passed it off as retaliation to everything I imagined had happened between you and Rebecca. And then I left remember?'

God he remembered. She'd stormed out of the house and when she came back it was marred with bruises.

But at least she had come back.

He'd always thought 'heart in my mouth' was a stupid cliché but as he heard the screech of breaks, his wife's pitiful cry and the sickening crunch of metal being crushed and twisted it felt as though his heart was choking him, rising up in his throat and filling his mouth until he couldn't breathe. How he'd managed to call her name he'd never know.

His wife's voice broke his melancholic reverie, 'Nothing actually _happened_, Sandy…'

'The same way nothing happened with Rebecca,' he said gravely, mimicking her words from that night.

'Did it?' she asked sharply. She'd used her husband's involvement with his ex-girlfriend as an excuse for not facing what was going on between her and Carter. The idea that she'd flirted with was entirely based on her fears, at least at first; what it had manifested itself into she didn't really want to analyse.

Sandy didn't want to meet her eyes; didn't want to see the hurt flash across them, but he forced himself to. His own eyes dark and heavy with guilt as he spoke, 'We kissed.'

To his surprise Kirsten's eyes mirrored his, '_We_ kissed,' she whispered.

'I'm sorry,' they said in unison.

'Nothing else?' he asked.

'What about for you?'

'Physically no; we kissed goodbye that's all, emotionally…'

'Same here.'

'What, Kirsten? It was my ex-girlfriend…fiancée; I was _engaged_ to her for God's sake. That kind of thing is bound to leave an emotional connection, have emotional consequences. You knew Carter for months, weeks even…'

'I didn't need weeks or months to know I was in love with you.'

Sandy looked horrified and Kirsten only realised what that sounded like as he began to stutter a reply; 'You were in…_love_ with him?'

'_No_,' she cried not letting the thought into her head, 'no. That's not what I meant. There was just…something between us. He called it a 'vibe'; I'm not really sure what it was. At first it was just that he was there when you weren't…but…'

'But what?' he asked, struggling to keep the anger out of his voice. 'So you didn't have an affair?'

'No.'

'But you thought about it?'

She didn't answer, couldn't answer that.

'What is it about that man that makes you doubt me? Makes you uneasy about us?'

'It's not…I don't know. I'm trying to be honest here Sandy, for both of us…' Kirsten whimpered, twisting her wedding rings agitatedly. 'But…then there was more to it, nothing tangible; a feeling. Not a connection like we have, or had, I don't know; we've been trying to build it again. Is it working? Have I just damaged it beyond repair?'

Her husband was silent, his fingers absently tracing the pattern on the bed sheets.

'I'm really sorry Sandy, I love you, but I can't say there was 'nothing' where there was something. I forgive you for Rebecca, I forgive you a hundred times over, I understand although I hate it. I hope you can understand me, forgive me?'

There was a long silence only broken occasionally by Kirsten's uneven breathing, the intermittent scratchy sobs that caught in her throat and she muffled with a hand.

'I still love you,' he said at last, 'what am I saying? Of course I love you…I can forgive you and yet, I still don't quite understand. You hardly knew him. You worked together. _I_ liked him, we all spent time together…and I never saw it.'

'I wasn't like there was anything to _see_…'

'This would be so much easier if it hadn't changed, if it was just you were jealous of Rebecca…but you still had no reason to be. I love _you_. I married _you_.'

'Only because she disappeared.'

'You don't know that,' Sandy shot back. 'I don't like to think about what would have happened if I hadn't met you.'

'Well I do. I think about how lucky I am. If it weren't for her leaving we wouldn't be together, there'd be no Seth, no Ryan, no Kirsten Cohen. I'd probably be married to _Jimmy Cooper_.'

'And I might have been your Carter.'

'But you're not, you're _my_ Sandy. And I need you. He was a way to get back at you, to try and bring you back and then he became something more, mainly because he was so like you. He _is_ you Sandy, a couple of years ago; he surfs, he jokes, he sang along to lame tunes all the way to Featherbrook. But it goes beyond that; he's angry at the world, laughs in its face, tries to change it, just like you. You're both thinkers, idealists, modern revolutionaries and you both have eyes that look right at me, look so hard sometimes it's frightening. I'm scared you won't see what you're looking for.'

'You're flattering me, saying we're similar,' he said with a smile. 'I guess I do understand really; I just don't want to face it, accept that I failed you.'

'Sandy it wasn't all your fault. You can't blame yourself for everything that goes wrong with me. I can make my own mistakes, I can fail alone. What I need is you there when I'm falling.'

'And I wasn't, _Carter_ was,' he spat the name, bitterness evident in his tone.

Kirsten smiled sadly, 'No, it wasn't like that. He just made it easier to pretend, easier to believe I wasn't self-destructing; he was the painkiller, not the cure.'

'And what am I? The poison.'

'Sandy, don't take the metaphor too far.'

'I just…are we fooling ourselves Kirsten?' he asked gruffly, his face marred with a frown, eyes deadly serious. She could help but draw back in surprise.

'W-what do you mean?'

He stood up and wandered over to the window, staring out across the city. His shoulders were tense, his head resting dejectedly against the glass. She wanted to go over, massage his shoulders, make him turn round but she didn't know if she'd be able to.

'Are we some place we don't want to admit? My mother asked how you were today and I realised I couldn't answer. I didn't know. I don't know how you feel; you don't talk to me.'

'At one time I didn't have to.'

She could see his eyes flash angrily in the reflection but he still didn't turn round. 'Don't make this just about me.'

'I'm not,' she protested, 'I just…this is so screwed up.' Kirsten stood up and began to pace. 'You really want to know how I feel?'

Sandy's reply was pleading, 'Yes, yes I do.'

Kirsten crossed from the bathroom to the window.

'I feel like I've failed. I've failed everybody.'

She retreated towards the bathroom.

'You didn't fail _anyone_. You only ever fail yourself Kirsten and that's because you set your sights far too high. If you'd only lower the stakes things would be so much easier.'

His wife didn't pause in her circling as she responded, striding along one side of the bed and then back again.

'You know I can't help it. You know I have to be the best.'

'But not for me. All I want is you. Just you, happy.'

She repeated the movement on the other side of the bed.

'And I should be. But I'm not. I'm sorry.'

'Don't be sorry.'

'I have what's generally conceived to be a near-perfect life. Why do I hate it so much Sandy?'

'Because you think you have to be perfect to fit into it perhaps? I don't know, this time you've got to tell me. What do you hate?'

Kirsten began to retrace her steps around the room, 'I _hate_ being an alcoholic. Really hate it. It makes me sick just knowing I am, that I fell like that, having to face it, face up to it. I hate the fact I could slip back into it so easily, I'll always be just one drink away. That scares me. A lot. And it's not easy being in a state of perpetual fear that you're not going to be strong enough, you can't control yourself, that you'll let everyone down again. I hate the fact I can't drink. Don't look worried, I don't crave it any more, I just…miss it sometimes. More that I care to admit actually.'

'Aw sweetheart, you've been doing so well it's easy to forget, not _forget_ as such, I mean…' her husband was struggling for words, not a usual problem for Sandy Cohen. He wanted to reach out to her, say what he meant without words but he didn't know if it was enough and she brushed past him when he began to move, continuing her agitated walking.

'I hate myself for neglecting the boys, distancing myself from you, for what I said to my dad.'

'Don't hate yourself, please. That is not going to solve anything. Feel guilty but not that.'

'Well I do Sandy. I hate being a desperate housewife. I hate cooking and knowing I only learnt to try and feel more like a mother. I mean, what sort of mother makes her kids exist on take-out.'

'I think you'll find there are quite a few and a lot of women who do far worse. You're a wonderful mother. Don't you think Seth would hate it if you were there every single minute of the day?'

'It doesn't change the fact when he needed me most, when Ryan needed me most, when you needed me most, I. Wasn't. There.'

'He's forgiven you, they've both forgive you. I've forgiven you. Now you need to forgive yourself.'

She bit her lip, rubbing her face with her hands, the only sounds her footsteps back and forth across the room and the low hum of the traffic outside. 'I don't know how to do that; I figure I'll always hold it against myself to some extent. It's ok. I can live with it.'

'But…'

'And I really I hate not doing anything.'

You know you can do whatever you want Kirsten. You can work if you need too, even at the Newport Group if…'

'No. Not that, but thanks honey. I'm so bored but I don't know what I want. I don't know who I am.'

'Kirsten…' the revelations were scaring him. How was she holding together? How had he not pressed her to share all this earlier? The guilt for what had happened to her was still there, like a shadow, clinging to him, and now this. Some kind of husband he was. He directed his attention back to his wife who was still pacing; there would be time for self-condemnation later.

'Yeah, Kirsten, who the hell is she? Kirsten Cohen is gone. She started fading last summer I guess and she's been cracking ever since, until she shattered at the intervention. And rehab had to fit the pieces back together but they're not the same. I'm almost someone else. I'm still 'Kirsten Cohen', I'm still 'Sandy's wife,' 'Seth and Ryan's mother' but I don't who that is. I said I wanted to live my life again but I'm not the same person. And it's not there. That life is gone. That Kirsten Cohen doesn't exist anymore.

Everything I worked for in rehab, my goals, what kept me going was the thought of getting home, to you, to the boys, getting on with my life…it's not the same in reality. And I hate that too. What I thought I wanted and what I want are different. Now I'm trying to be the wife and mother I should have been and it doesn't feel right. And how awful is it to admit that?'

'Kirsten, you've got to stop pretending…'

'That's what Carter said.'

Her husband's face registered immediate shock and confusion. 'You talked to him about…_this_? About _us_? Kirsten…'

'We just talked Sandy. In fact, he was the one who said it was you I should be talking to.'

'He's a wise man.'

He's been through something sort of like this. We're not gonna end up the same way. We're not,' her voice faltered, 'are we?'

'No, we're not. Kirsten honey, you need to calm down; you've been pacing around this room for a half hour. There's gonna be a track worn in the carpet at this rate,' he caught her arm and pulled her towards him.

'I just…it's easy to say…'

She wasn't listening, her eyes flicking back and forth, looking anywhere but his face. 'Kirsten,' he said warningly, '_Kirsten_', before shaking her by her shoulders.

'Sandy!' she protested, snapping out of it and glowering at her husband.

'Please, _please_. We can get through this ok? We can figure all this out, find you, find your life, and find something for you to do, but not tonight. You're tired, you're not thinking straight. Everything will look better in the morning and when we get home we'll work on the GP KC.'

That made her smile. Sandy mimicking Seth or Seth mimicking Sandy always did that. Actually any remind of any of her boys could make her smile.

'You won't get any sleep if you're like this,' he continued, 'let it go tonight, please,' he begged, tilting her head so that two sets of blue eyes met; one pleading, the other tearful. She stood limp for a moment before struggling out of his arms. 'Ok…ok. I'm gonna take a shower.'

'You want any company?' he asked, following her into the bathroom.

'Not tonight Sandy, I don't…'

'I just meant…you know…' he interjected, 'not '_you know_'.'

'Oh Sandy, I love you, even when you talk nonsense.'

'It's not nonsense, _you_ know what I mean.'

'That's not saying much.'

'It's all that matters.'

She smiled at that, before waving her hands at him, 'Come on you, out. I'm _trying_ to get changed here.'

She was pretending again, joking, avoiding how she felt but he played along, 'Yes I can see that, that's _why_ I'm here.'

She sighed and Sandy knew that she was barely holding herself together. One look at the pale face made him want to stay but knew she just wanted to be alone.

'Fine, fine, I'm leaving,' he declared, putting his hands up and backing away before pausing at the door. 'How about we order room service, see if we can find something to watch on one of the 500 channels?'

'Sounds good…probably not what you had in mind for an evening when we order-in though.'

He laughed, 'You, stop worrying. Spending time with you is my favourite thing so I don't mind how we spend it. And after last night I think I'll let you off.'

'It was pretty…'

'Amazing?' Sandy offered, 'Eventful? Perfect? Why, thank you. You weren't bad yourself.'

Kirsten stuck her tongue out and flashed him a proper, if somewhat subdued smile. 'In that case, how about tomorrow we have breakfast…in bed?'

'Now that's a rhetorical question if there ever was one.'

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You like? You not like? You let me know!


	5. A visit to the Bronx Zoo

Fairytale of New York – A visit to the Bronx Zoo

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How is it? And yes I did rip that bit when Kirsten came back and Sandy trapped her in the doorway and watched while she broke down in the bathroom from Spooks! Hehe, but Adam and Fiona are a cute couple like Sandy and Kirsten so I couldn't resist!

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Sandy shut the bathroom door gently but firmly behind him and stood for a moment leaning against it.

They were going to be okay.

_They **were** going to be okay_.

There was no way they could give up now.

He lost himself in his thoughts, gloomy, brooding thoughts. Memories of the summer, recollections of the previous summer and everything that had gone wrong since. It was several minutes before he registered the sound coming from the bathroom; muffled sobs beneath the running water.

She was crying.

There was nothing he wanted more than to go in there and comfort her. Climb in the shower behind her like he'd offered to and hold her. But she wouldn't thank him for it right now. He knew that. She was all talked out, sick of being reassured when she doubted the voice of it and just plain tired.

Trying to pretend his wife wasn't on the other side of the door crying her eyes out, Sandy forced himself into the other room to hunt out the room service menus. When he heard the shower shut off he wandered casually into the bedroom, meeting a damp Kirsten still wrapped in a towel. He watched her search through her suitcase, admiring the curve of her shoulders, the droplets on her neck that he just wanted to kiss off and her slender legs displayed beneath the too-short towel.

'Sandy!' She chastised, without looking up, and he wondered how she knew.

'What honey?'

'You're staring.'

'I can't help it. There is a fluffy white bathrobe in there if you wanted to be modest but you obviously enjoy tormenting me.'

No. No bathrobes.

Kirsten hadn't touched the _Hers_ robe. She couldn't. It was too weird. Before she'd even run into Carter she had avoided it. Tonight she couldn't even look at it. Shit. Now she had a complex about bathrobes.

She forced a smile but didn't look up and Sandy knew she was trying to hide her reddened eyes. He didn't comment, sidling up behind her and kissing the back of her neck. She shivered and tipped her head back on his shoulder. 'Sanford Cohen I know exactly where this is going, except it's not.'

'I was just asking what you wanted for dinner,' he said nonchalantly.

'Well it was a very interesting way of asking.'

'I'm a very interesting man.'

'Stop flattering yourself and let me look at the menus.'

Sandy pouted and handed them over so Kirsten could make her choice. He raised his eyebrows at her selection but didn't argue; she was obviously in a strange mood tonight and he didn't want anymore tears or angry glares. She might look angelic, he ruminated as he simultaneously called for room service and surreptitiously watched his wife get changed, but she could certainly channel the devil if she felt like it.

-------

'Your mother say anything else?' Kirsten asked after Sandy had ended the call, 'No not-so-subtle jibes about our lifestyle? Did she ask if you had the menorah up?'

'Oh of course. Check and check! She also asked if I was still behaving indecently with you despite having been married almost twenty-one years.'

'And what did you tell her?'

'I said the whole reason I married you was so that we had an excuse to behave indecently.'

'You didn't.'

'I did. Her response being that if we didn't start controlling ourselves we'd find ourselves with a baby on our hands. And talking of our dear children, I think we have to stop making-out while Seth's on the phone to my mother. Seems to me like he's been moaning about us to a sympathetic ear.'

Kirsten laughed, 'He probably put her up to that comment. I should go call the boys now, make sure they didn't just eat cookie dough for dinner.'

-------

By the time Kirsten had finished giving her sons the third degree…

'_Have you been outside today at all? Or have you been glued to the play-station?'_

'_M-o-m, it's like, sixty degrees out there; it's freezing.'_

'_I'll take that as a no.'_

'_As a child of Southern California I cannot be expected to function normally under less than seventy.'_

'_And this from the boy who has chosen Brown for college. Do you have enough fruit?'_

' _Um…yeah Kirsten, there's plenty.' Ryan told her, eyeing the giant basket on the kitchen island._

'_Has anyone called?'_

'_Sadly yes, Julie Cooper-Nichol and Taryn what's-her-face, why can we never remember that woman's name?' _

'_Perhaps because she's had three different husbands since I've been in Newport?' Ryan offered._

_Kirsten smothered a laugh, 'Sounds about right, anything important?'_

'_Please Mom; is anything the Newpsies say important?'_

'_I guess it can wait till I get back.'_

_- 'Yeah, that's probably best as I um…didn't write down the messages.'_

'_Right, thanks Seth. What did you have for dinner?_

_Pizza, what is this? The Spanish Inquisition?_

_Something like that. What time did you go to bed last night?'_

_Probably earlier than you._

'_I wouldn't bet on that,' Sandy cut in, having picked up the line in the lounge, 'your mother and I were early birds last night…not that we got much sleep…'_

_There was a choking sound followed by a clatter at the other end. A moment later Ryan informed them; 'Seth has hung up. He says he did not let you go to New York to then be terrorized by phone.'_

_Sandy chuckled, 'It's too easy. Anyway, I hope you're alright, behaving yourselves.'_

'_More than you are.'_

'_Watch it Ryan. Honey, the food's arrived; let's leave our delightful offspring to themselves shall we?'_

'_Take care okay?'_

'_I always do.'_

'_Shut up Sandy. Love you Ryan, tell Seth so too. Bye.'_

…room service had called and it was time to eat. Sandy was relieved to find the order was right; he hadn't exactly been concentrating when he rang. It was a strange meal; things were ok, but not quite. They kept to neutral topics, continuing with the banter that, thank God, still came naturally.

'So-o-o,' Sandy said when they were finished, 'there's an old Steve McQueen movie…'

'No,' his wife moaned, interrupting him, 'come on Sandy. There has got to be something better than that.'

'If by better you mean an incredibly soppy chick-flick, you're probably right; those things are two a dozen. But _real_ cinema, that is hard to find and McQueen is a classic.'

Kirsten pouted but he refused to back down; 'You're gonna fall asleep anyway,' he pointed out.

'I _rest my eyes_,' she protested indignantly.

'Well how about we watch whatever we finally agree on in bed? That way I don't have to risk life and limb waking you up when you're 'resting your eyes' sat on the sofa.'

'You mean you wouldn't carry me?' she asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

He grinned, leaning to kiss her before catching her hand and leading her into other room, 'You know I would, I'm just thinking of my back.'

'There's nothing wrong with your back.'

'Wouldn't count on it after last night…'

-------

As predicted Kirsten fell asleep within the first twenty minutes of the rom-com she'd kissed and cajoled her husband into submitting to. She knew she was flagging but didn't try to fight it. She was tired after the surprises of that afternoon and the revelations of the evening. Being honest wasn't always easy; it was certainly draining. And Sandy's hand stroking through her hair, his other arm around her, was so comforting. Plus, if she 'rested her eyes' for long enough he'd change channel and get to watch his blessed McQueen movie after all.

Sandy felt Kirsten relax in his arms, her head dropping against his chest and her breathing evening out. He had a sneaking suspicion she only beleaguered him into watching the drivel that was currently playing onscreen to prove to herself that she could win him over. And that she did, over and over again.

He wondered if she'd ever realise that she was always going to win. There was no one quite like her; she had no reason to feel insecure, no reason to need to be in control. But that was just Kirsten.

Sandy fumbled for the remote and flicked onto his preferred choice of viewing, lowering the volume so as not to wake his wife. Brushing a kiss against her temple, he settled her more comfortably against him, his mind never reaching the television; sidetracked by the woman in his arms and a conversation he'd had with his mother earlier that day.

-------

'And how's _Kirsten_?' Sophie Cohen asked indifferently, tacking her daughter-in-law onto the end of a long line of questions; her grandsons, ('_Still too busy chasing those California girls to visit? Following in their father's foolish footsteps I see. _') Sandy's job, ('_I don't think I heard that correctly Sanford. **You** are now CEO of the **Newport Group**? This better be some sick joke or so help me God!_')their trip, ('_It **is** only a five hour flight Sandy, it's not like it's a long journey, and no doubt you flew First Class._') the weather in California, ('_How's the weather in that God-forsaken place you call home? Still revoltingly sunny? Now you can't beat a real cold snap, a little snowfall and there's no place better for it than good old NYC._')

'Kirsten's…Kirsten's uh…' Sandy hesitated. How was Kirsten?

'I expect more details than her name Sanford. I'm already familiar with it,' the Nana snapped exasperatedly.

'Kirsten's well…Kirsten.'

'I know who she is. Sandy, what's going on?'

'I…um, don't really know how she is. She doesn't tell me, she's pretending she'd ok…I don't know if…'

'Well it's your job to find out. You did marry her after all.'

Despite a hint of sympathy, the sourness was evident in the last words and when he didn't respond her tone became sharp. '_Sanford Cohen_ are you listening to me?'

'As if you care.'

'I may not like her particularly…at all. I may dislike everything about her; her background, her lifestyle, her appearance, her religion, her house, her business, her wealth, her late father and everything he stood for. I'm not going to praise her because she's had everything handed to her on a plate and that's nothing to be proud of. You won't catch Sophie Cohen flattering anyone because of their family connections or social standing. But I won't deny that she's not as soft as she could be for someone brought up like her. I guess being wealthy doesn't make _all_ difficulties easier. Although it sure as hell usually helps. She's coped with a lot in her eyes; nothing to trials in _real life_ but she can't help that.' Her voice was patronising.

'Ma, her _sons left_, her _father died_ and her _husband _was a _selfish ass_. Tell me what's not _real_ about all that?'

'I'm just saying she's never had to work for a living, never know what it was like to go without.'

'Oh so the first three years of our marriage when we were in Berkeley just don't count.'

'_Three years_ Sandy? Listen to yourself. People struggle for their entire lives. Not everyone marries an heiress with a trust fund larger than the GDP of some small countries and ends up living in a house that is positively palatial…'

'So I got lucky, face it. But you know what? I don't care about any of that stuff and you know damn well I don't. All I care about is Kirsten. I love Kirsten and she loves me, that's why I'm lucky. You just don't want to accept that.' Sandy shook his head, almost laughing. 'Even after twenty years you still. Can't. Accept it.'

'Oh believe you me I've resigned myself to the fact you love her.'

'Well thanks, that really means a lot to me.'

'I came to the wedding didn't I?'

'Only because I said you didn't have to give your blessing.'

'It's more than her father did.'

Sandy shook his head. 'I'm not arguing about Caleb Nichol, let him rest in peace.'

'That's the last thing that man's gonna be doing; he left too many hard feelings and secrets behind him.'

'I understand why you dislike the man; he was as crooked as they come although he did what he did for his family.' The Nana harrumphed crossly but her son ignored her. 'What I can't stand is you holding it against Kirsten. It's not her fault and she's not her father.'

'Oh she has her own vices.'

'Don't we all?'

'She's an alcoholic.'

'A rehabilitated one.'

'Mmmhmm because it makes all the difference.'

'See, this is why we don't visit, this why I always come alone; I don't want her to hear you talking like this.'

Sophie smiled and shook her head. 'You don't give her enough credit. Whatever you might say she's her father's daughter; got that stubborn streak. Don't think she couldn't give as good as she gets.'

'Only she wouldn't do it out of spite.'

'Oh Sandy, when are you going to understand I have a hundred reasons for disliking her but the main one is that she's your wife. Just because I was angry you left doesn't mean I didn't want the best for you. What I hated most was that you loved her, were willing to give up everything for her, no matter what I thought; she was more important to you than me. She's what kept you West. I admit I'm appalled that she descended into alcoholism like that but at least she beat it. As for caring, I just don't want you running to me if it all goes wrong. As satisfying as it would be to say 'I told you so.'

The mix of pure insults and backhanded compliments had left Sandy's head spinning.

'Ma…I…'

'Oh shut up Sandy, I don't want any smart-alecky comments about how soft I'm getting.'

'I understand. But when are you going to understand that Kirsten _is_ what's best for me? I didn't marry her for any of the reasons you dislike her, I-…'

'I know, I know, you married her for love. She did too, must have; there wasn't much else going for you. Initially I admit I didn't trust her; thought she was a spoilt brat using dating you to annoy Daddy…and then you got engaged. That had me stumped. Was positive she must be pregnant; why else? But no.'

'Thanks Ma, really making your son feel good about himself here.'

'I'm being honest here Sandy, you're a blind fool sometimes.'

'Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes?' Sandy quoted.

'Psssht! Don't start with that nonsense. Still, I can't deny she loves you; she could have had anyone, but she chose you; the poor, struggling Jew from the Bronx and she's stuck with you. Therefore she can't be all bad. _Not_ that I like her or anything mind you.'

Sandy was speechless, was there anyone as contradictory as his mother? She began rattling teacups in the sink, a sure sign she thought she'd said too much, raising her voice over them, 'So when are you going to tell me what's going on between the pair of you?' she demanded.

'Um…well…this summer was hard, really hard but it was last year when everything started to unravel. Last summer was tough.'

'Oh yes, with the boys gone? I'm sure you two managed to enjoy having the house to yourselves…'

'Or not. I've never seen Kirsten so upset, so hurt, so angry…so cold. I think we lost each other that summer and we've been searching ever since. I thought we'd found our groove but I guess I was wrong. Things still aren't right.'

'Well that's very poetic but from what I hear you and your wife don't seem that remote from each other…the things poor Sethela tells me; it's positively indecent to behave like that in front of your children.'

'You know how Seth likes to exaggerate Ma.'

'He's a sensitive child.'

'Sensitive my a-…'

'SANFORD! I take it that means the pair of you are still behaving indecently? You've been married for more than twenty years for crying out loud.'

The Nana had continued to twist Sandy's ear all afternoon until he left, exhausted but reassured that his mother was in fine fettle. It was him and Kirsten he was worried about.

-------

How was The Nana? Hope I got her a little bit right!


	6. Dreamtime in Times Square

Fairytale of New York – Dreamtime in Times Square

---

I had a lot of fun writing this bit! Hee, hee! Thank you so much for your overwhelming reviews. I love you all. Thank you.

---

_Kirsten didn't know she was dreaming; the scene before her mimicked the 5th Avenue of that morning; lazy snowflakes drifting from the heavy grey sky and catching on the masses of frantic shoppers or being trampled underfoot. She heard her name called and turned to find Carter, inexplicably was wearing a Santa hat and somehow reminding her of the Grinch, only a lot better looking._

'_Kirsten,' he said smiling before his face fell. 'Oh…' His eyes were lingering over her stomach. She glanced down and found her coat was buttoned only half-way; her rounded belly evident between the folds. _

_She was pregnant. _

_This wasn't today. This didn't make any sense._

'_Whose is it?' Carter asked, motioning towards the bump._

'_Sandy's,' she told him. 'Who else? We never…'_

'_I just thought…'_

_What did he think? Since when had they…?_

_Suddenly Kirsten was distracted by a banging sound across the street. In the first floor window of an adjacent building she could see The Nana, tapping against the glass and waving a menorah furiously. 'It wasn't Newport he didn't want to leave.' Kirsten could make out the words she was mouthing through the glass and they confused her. Why was she saying that?_

_At that moment Carter slid his arm around her and she felt her breath hitch in her chest; just as it had in reality. He was pulling her through the crowds on the wide pavement until they reached the road, but there were no cars, no queues of yellow cabs, just an empty white surface; the road frozen over. In the centre there was a lone skater spinning round and round and round. He was making Kirsten dizzy. _

_The Nana had now forced the window open and she could hear her shouting, her voice raised against the wind, 'It wasn't Newport he didn't want to leave. It wasn't Newport…'_

_She tried to ignore it and focussed on the skater, still spinning in that sickeningly tight circle. It was Sandy she realised suddenly. _

'_Sandy,' she tried to call out but somehow the name that formed was 'Jimmy.' 'Jimmy, Jimmy!' Kirsten cried, trying to step onto the ice but Carter pulled her back. 'We can bend this thing, doesn't mean it's gonna break,' he said gravely, tilting her chin to look at him._

_What? What was going on? This was all too weird._

_She broke away and gingerly tested the ice. Sandy was still pirouetting but she realised he was talking too; just like the other figures he was repeating a phrase that she was sure didn't fit him. 'Oh the guilt now, very impressive; are you sure you're not Jewish? Oh the guilt now, very impressive; are you sure you're not Jewish?'_

_What did he mean?_

_Kirsten struggled towards him slipping and sliding on the ice, she had to stop looking at Sandy, the incessant movement was making her sick, the mix of the three chanting voices buzzing in her head._

'_It wasn't Newport he didn't want to leave.'_

'_We can bend this thing, doesn't mean it's gonna break.'_

'_Oh guilt now, that's very impressive; are you sure you're not Jewish?'_

'_It wasn't Newport…' 'We can bend this thing…' 'Oh guilt now, that's very impressive…'_

'…_he didn't want to leave.' '…doesn't mean it's gonna break.' '…are you sure you're not Jewish?'_

'_Newport.'_

'_Bend. Break.'_

'_Guilt. Impressive. Jewish.'_

_She stared at the ice and was startled to find she could see through it and not to the tarmac. There were people moving beneath the surface. She recognised her father the last time she'd seen him, shouting at her, herself and Sandy fighting during that long, empty summer, Lindsay open mouthed and tearful at the Christmukkah revelation. Rebecca Bloom with her smug face as she admitted she still loved Sandy, Ryan's face when he left them, Sandy holding the white envelope their son had left, Seth begging her plaintively to go to rehab. Julie's face at the reading of her father's will, Charlotte's smile; all a con, Carter kissing her, Jimmy kissing her. Kirsten looked away sharply and lost her balance. As she fell she realised the ice was cracking, great claw-like lines branching out around her. She was going to fall. Kirsten moved her hands to try and shield her stomach, a rush of motherly protectiveness swamping her. She was going to fall in; disappear into those icy memories. She hit the rapidly splintering ice and felt a rush of cold, the taste of vodka in her mouth._

Kirsten woke up with a jolt, drenched with cold sweat.

It was a dream. Only a dream. That explained everything.

But it had been so real even if it was completely crazy. She shivered as she remembered; Carter…The Nana…Sandy…ice…cracking…vodka…pregnant. What? She'd been pregnant?  
She slid quietly out of bed so as not to wake Sandy who was still sleeping soundly. It took some doing as his arm was still draped protectively round her waist but she'd managed to gently move it so that she could pad over to the window. The drapes were heavy and many layered to keep out the biting cold of the New York winters and failing to push them aside Kirsten worked her way round the end so she could look outside, the curtains hanging behind her. The street outside was brightly lit with street lamps and Christmas lights that reflected on the flakes of snow that were continuing to fall lazily to earth. Cars and taxis were still speeding past, occasionally honking or with music blaring. It was certainly the city that never slept.

Her thoughts wandered back to her strange dream, trying to unravel it, link the action to reality so it wasn't so frightening. Carter was obvious; it was because she'd run into him the day before, the Nana was the reason they were here in New York, the scenes beneath the ice were all parts of her life; the ones she relived in her worst nightmares. And Sandy? She often dreamed about Sandy…but he usually acknowledged her rather than skating aimlessly and quoting his mother. Sometimes it just wasn't possible to rationalise dreams. And being pregnant, that was just weird, probably something to do with Sophie Cohen's flyaway comment about her and Sandy's 'behaviour'. Once again Kirsten marvelled at the outspokenness of her mother-in-law and also the craziness her brain could come up with in her sleep.

'Kirsten?' she heard a voice ask.

What was it with people calling her name today?

'Kirsten?' the tone was losing its sleepiness now, becoming anxious. It was Sandy.

'I'm here,' she said, turning and fighting her way out of the curtains and crawling back into bed.

'Oh honey, you gave me a fright,' he told her, pulling her close. 'What were you doing by the window? You're freezing!'

'I had a nightmare,' she mumbled, snuggling into her husband and suddenly feeling exhausted. He was right; it had been cold on the other side of the curtains, especially in damp pyjamas. It would be just her luck to catch cold right before Christmukkah.

'You want to talk about it?'

'Nmph,' was her eloquent reply, scrunching up her nose, 'no…just sleep…here, with you.'

'You'll wake me if you have any more dreams?'

'Mmm,'

'Kirsten?'

His wife didn't open her eyes, her voice drowsy, 'I'm s-sleeping S-Sandy.'

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her temple, 'Love you sweetheart.'

'Love you.'

-------

When she woke several hours later Kirsten found the room lit by an iridescent glow filtering from the edges of the curtains and denoting a new snowfall. Sandy was sleeping quietly beside her, his handsome face only inches from her own. She studied it; the tanned skin, the laughter lines, the creases between his eyebrows that had deepened over the past year, those eyebrows that had the power to make her smile and strangely enough, to turn her on, the unruly black hair that had gained its first speckles of grey that summer, the strong jaw with its shadow of stubble, the lips that knew just how to kiss and which she loved to kiss, the eyelids closed over the brightest, most earnest, most soulful pair of blue eyes she knew.'

Those eyes that could look right inside her. But she hadn't let them for a long time. Perhaps that was what had gone wrong. She couldn't bear to look in her husband's eyes in case she saw something she didn't want to see; confusion, deceit, doubt, anger, blame, pity.

She didn't want him to look into hers, afraid he's see how she was feeling; the anger, hurt, suspicion, fear, deceit, shame.

She'd learnt to hide her thoughts, bring the shutters down so her eyes were unreadable. She had to stop.

Trust.

Open her eyes.

'I'm sorry,' she said to the sleeping form next to her. 'I'm sorry I made you live my life, I'm sorry I shut you out last summer, I'm sorry I refused to talk about it, I'm sorry I didn't trust you with Rebecca, I'm sorry I-I…had feelings for Carter, I'm sorry I ran out on you, I'm sorry I kept drinking, I'm sorry I lied, I'm sorry I didn't listen to you, I'm sorry I wouldn't let you help me, I'm sorry I yelled at you, I'm sorry I had to leave you, I'm sorry I'm an alcoholic, I'm sorry…for everything.'

Her voice had dwindled to a breathless whisper and she looked away guiltily. 'I know I should be saying this when you're awake, I guess I'm a coward.' She didn't see his eyes flicker.

'I love you,' she declared, turning back, 'God, but I do. So much. I don't know why I had feelings for Carter…well I do…but it was stupid. I love you Sandy. It wasn't his fault, don't blame him. But it wasn't just me or just you, it was both of us. We're in this together, for better and for worse and I want to make it better. I don't really know how but I know I need you. I love you.'

Kirsten squeezed her eyes shut to stop the threatening tears blinking them open in shock when she heard the low voice next to her.

'I love you too.'

She found herself face to face with her husband, noses grazing, eyes locked together; searching souls, connected

'I love you and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't bring the boys home, I'm sorry I kept putting Rebecca first, I regret it so much, I'm sorry I made you doubt my love, I'm sorry I couldn't help you myself, I'm sorry I left you there, I'm sorry I failed.'

'You didn't fail, you're here.'

'I'm always here.'

_I. Love. You._

Kirsten was sinking, drowning in his eyes, in his love.

Sandy was falling, into her eyes, falling for her all over again.

_I. Love. You._

They kissed, slowly, languidly, lips softly caressing each other, tongues embracing.

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

They didn't leave the hotel room all day.

-------

How many people want the extended version of this chapter that expands on the 'they didn't leave the hotel room all day?' Admit it, I know what you're all like!


	7. Crossing the Brooklyn Bridge

bFairytale of New York – Crossing the Brooklyn Bridge

---

This is where it truly ran off by itself and went all cutesy!

---

Over a week after they got back Kirsten and Sandy were sat side by side at the kitchen table going through the mail. Kirsten hadn't been well since they returned home and there was a pile of unopened correspondence they hadn't attended to. There was some personal mail but most of it was Christmas/Holiday/Hanukkah/Winter cards addressed to the whole family. Kirsten would slit the creamy envelopes with a manicured nail whilst Sandy tore them haphazardly, they'd read the cards and them swap them simultaneously without looking up. Every so often they'd reach for the large mugs of coffee in front of them; necessary sustenance in the wake of the self-congratulatory epistles of the Newpsies.

_Josh's soccer skills just keep improving; he was made Captain of the first team last semester._

_I continue to visit Palm Springs after New Year (so important to detox) hope to see some of you there._

_Michael was promoted this year, high time of course, and now we have that second condo…_

_Tallulah enjoyed her first winter dance; don't they grow up fast!_

Sandy of course punctuated his reading with sarcastic comments whilst Kirsten noted the senders against her neat list of those she had already sent cards to. The next envelope had a New York postmark and Kirsten almost passed it to Sandy thinking it was from The Nana, until she recalled the menorah-encrusted Hanukkah card already sat on the mantelpiece. (Despite her insistence that Hanukkah wasn't an important Jewish festival, The Nana wasn't going to be outdone by the Christians) Or maybe it wasn't that, something about the writing was familiar. Gingerly, the tugged the card from the envelope and opened it, a slip folded of paper fluttered into her lap, _Kirsten_ scrawled across it. The card was faithless; a generic 'Seasons Greetings' printed inside but Kirsten saw only the written text.

_Kirsten, Sandy, Seth and Ryan,_

_Carter_

Carter.

Nonchalantly Kirsten passed the card to her husband, 'More coffee?' she asked, concealing the note in her hand and picking up their empty mugs.

'Thanks,' Sandy agreed as he read, 'Nice of Carter to send a card, did you send him one?'

'Uh, no,' she replied bending over the coffee maker, 'I didn't know his address.'

'You didn't find out when you saw him last week?' he asked evenly.

'…It didn't come up.'

'No return address,' he observed, setting the card with the others. 'Ah well.'

Kirsten didn't answer; she had smoothed the note out on the counter behind the machine.

_Kirsten, _

_I didn't think I'd see you again and there you were in that street. In a way I'm sorry; I know you've moved on, past whatever it was that happened between us. Perhaps you just moved back to where you were meant to be. But I'm not sorry I saw you and I refuse to be guilty about that. I'm not sorry we met either, never will be, just guilty about how things turned out. I thought about you after I left, wondered how you were doing but you said not to call. If I had would it have changed things? Made it worse? Better? Sorry, you can't answer that I know. It seemed best to let it go, let you go. I had no idea what I was leaving you to, that at least some of what you went through was my fault.  
So what now? I think I let you go again but how much? It was hard enough the first time. Leaving it to fate again seems best; we're never going to be able to do the 'acquaintances' thing; Christmas cards where we send pointless details about our lives? That's not us. Well, there never was an 'us' but you know what I mean. You and I Kirsten, what are we to each other? Colleagues; but we no longer work together, friends; too strange, acquaintances; too false, something more; I wish, something else; yes something. Unspoken, undefined, but unforgettable. There was something Kirsten and I know you don't deny that. I won't; can't, but I know better than to think of it now. I'm not going to forget you but I know that it's over. It's been over for a long time, I don't think it even began really. There was just something between us but I didn't try to fool myself; I always knew really that it was most likely that nothing would ever happen. Perhaps that was part of the attraction; you were always out of my reach. You'd never do that to Sandy when there was still the chance that you were being neurotic, overreacting, when you knew deep down he didn't mean to hurt you even though he had. You wouldn't do that to your kids, to your Dad, to yourself. And I wouldn't do it to you either. I'm not Sandy even if we have a passing resemblance, you know that. You can't really conceive your life without him but you've managed without me. Kirsten Cohen would never jump, even if she flirted with the idea? Because you did, didn't you Kirsten? You flirted with me because it was playing with fire, putting a toe over the line, imagining the impossible. _

_I'm getting lost in my metaphors. There were hundreds of reasons for what was between us, hundreds of excuses and some of them I guess are lies. You felt it. I felt it. But I wouldn't move before you did even though I knew you wouldn't stray far. What does that say? That I'm a fool for falling for you? A married woman who's still in love however much she keeps doubting it. I'm not a bad guy; I didn't want to make things worse although I knew you'd come to me and I wanted that. So I had to leave. But I'm also a jealous guy. I couldn't watch you fall back in love with your husband. I couldn't stay. Damned either way. I doubt you're following this. Did you even read this far? I don't think I'm making sense but I mean it all, every word. Even if I am drunk. Go figure. _

_I guess this is it. All the best Kirsten._

_Carter_

Sandy snorted with laughter at something and she quickly stuffed the note into one of the china pots on the windowsill, her mind flitting back to their chance meeting; awkward yet enjoyable, and then to that cryptic dream. Without warning, three thoughts suddenly leapt up and tangled themselves together leaving her with one conclusion. Her strange illness of the past few days; Sandy insisting it was flu but she only had half the symptoms; fatigue and sickness, not even the ghost of a cold. The fact that she'd been pregnant in that dream and the memory of a similar dream she'd had almost eighteen years ago.

_In their yard in Berkeley there had been old tree. Too large for the tiny space it lived in but the previous owners had obviously been loath to cut it down. The branches that would have overhung into neighbouring yards had been ruthlessly chopped but there were still two large branches attached to one of which was a swing. Sandy always joked it was the swing which had sold the house to him; there's never anything amiss in a house with a swing he had declared. Kirsten's reservations on this comment had never been aired; there was plenty amiss with that house but beggars couldn't be choosers. And if she was honest, she wasn't averse to the idea of the swing herself. Plus, the house was the only one in their price range with some form of garden, even if it was the size of a postage stamp. _

_Kirsten was sat on the swing now, gently rocking to and fro. At first it was fall; colourful, curling leaves being shaken from the tree by a brisk wind and crunching beneath her feet as she pushed the swing. But soon the falling leaves turned to snowflakes, floating past her and settling onto the pale, frosty grass. She was vaguely aware of the slight rise of her stomach but it had no significance as the sun came out and melted the snow, new leaves appearing on the branches above her and birdsong in her ears. The bulge had grown to a bump but still it didn't register, not until the tree was a mass of blossom and Kirsten felt hot and uncomfortable. She felt heavy and tired, her belly swollen so she couldn't see her feet that were still propelling the swing backwards and forwards. She felt a thump in her abdomen and immediately it registered. She was pregnant. Pregnant? Shit._

_Kirsten remembered waking in a panic; tangled, hot and sweaty in the bedclothes but feeling ice cold fear inside her. She'd snuggled up to Sandy and forced herself back to sleep with the mantra 'just-a-dream-just-a-dream-just-a-dream'. And then that morning she'd been dreadfully sick, and the next and the next, and she knew, however much she didn't want to admit it, she knew._

Just like she knew now.

'I'm pregnant,' she whispered to herself in shock, glancing over at her husband. Sandy was chuntering to himself about how unethical it was to give nose jobs to sixteen year olds as birthday presents having just read; '_Candice has just turned 16 and now has her new nose in time for the winter party circuit; I'm so glad._'

'Sandy,' she said sharply, tipping her newly made coffee down the sink, 'I'm pregnant.'

'Mmmhmm. Honey, what are you doing? That's quality coffee…_what_?' It took a little while for Sandy's brain to catch up with what his wife had said. 'You're what?'

Kirsten blinked; looking lost and repeated the words.

'How? When?' Sandy stuttered. 'How do you know? Are you sure?' He was beside her now and she steered him away from the counter, paranoid that Sandy would randomly take it into his head to take a peep into the ornaments.

'I think you know _how_,' she teased. 'When? I'm guessing in New York; think I got my prescription mixed up with the change of time zones. It just makes sense; I've been so tired and irritable recently… and I keep being sick…'

Sandy interrupted at this, 'You _told _me you were feeling better,' he chastised.

'I know; I didn't want you to worry.'

Cue a Kirsten-esque 'humph' from her husband.

'And no, I'm not sure, it's just…you're gonna laugh at this but…' she hesitated and Sandy wrapped his arms around her, gently kissing her cheek. 'Before I knew I was pregnant with Seth I had this dream that I was pregnant…and…when we were in New York…'

'You had a dream, I remember. But that was a nightmare.'

'Yeah, because your mother featured in it, basically it was me meeting Carter again but I was pregnant.' Sandy looked sceptical and she smiled at him, 'I know this sounds far fetched…'

'I just don't want you to pin your hopes on a dream and then be disappointed is all,' he said, stroking hair out of her face and looking at her bright eyes. 'I didn't know you wanted another baby.'

'I didn't know either,' she told him. 'It just…feels right. But I suppose we'd better have more confirmation than a weird dream.'

'That might be an idea,' Sandy agreed, his head jerking up suddenly, 'Oh lord! My mother so totally called this. We are _never_ gonna live it down.'

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Only one more chapter left, please hold out and make it to the end!


	8. The OC Statue of Liberty

Fairytale of New York – The O.C. Statue of Liberty

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I know, I know; my chapter titles get worse! I was trying to be clever and it just didn't happen. Enjoy the last chapter and thank you sooo much for all the reviews.

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Two weeks later it was Christmas Eve, Sandy was out collecting take-away whilst Kirsten readied the living room for the next day's festivities; the 'one day of many presents'. The boys would laugh at her but she insisted that the room could be spruced up; pine needles picked up from under the tree (something Rosa refused flat out to do; 'I'm sorry Mrs Cohen but if you will have a real tree there's nothing I can do; I don't have the time to get down on my hands and knees and pick up the mess those trees leave. Dios sabe those artificial ones are much more agreeable') presents to organise beneath it, branches and ornaments to fiddle with, cushions to plump, rugs to straighten, decorations to adjust, cards to prop up more securely on the mantelshelf, stockings to tug into shape. And anyway, it was a tradition.

The house was quiet, expectant, like her. This was turning out to be a very different Christmukkah. A fortnight ago her doctor had confirmed her suspicions and she and Sandy were planning telling the boys after Christmukkah was over. She didn't know how they'd feel and she didn't want to upstage Seth's, and perhaps secretly Ryan's, favourite holiday. This would be the last Christmukkah with the boys in the house, the last one with the four of them. Next year there would be five.

It would be a lie to say she wasn't scared; worried about how the boys would react, afraid she was too old to do this again, frightened she wasn't a good enough mother. But all the same she was excited; she'd loved being pregnant the first time, once the morning sickness was over, and she loved babies. The idea of having all those precious childhood moments repeated made her smile with anticipation. She only wished she could have shared Ryan's, given him different memories. But they were making up for it as much as they could now and Christmukkah was the perfect excuse.

Kirsten headed to the kitchen, brushing past the dresser as she went and knocking a card to the floor; she bent down to pick it up and glanced at the name in it.

_Carter_

Carter. Sandy had simply thought she was distracted by the idea of the baby but she knew that Carter was occupying her thoughts too. The note was still secreted in the pottery on the windowsill in the kitchen although she'd removed it to read many times since it had arrived. She couldn't quite decide what to do with it. Keep it? Where? Risk Sandy finding it? Should she throw it? Tear it up and let him go? He was letting her go; this was it, but for some reason she couldn't quite go through with it. This was her last link to Carter, she reasoned, thinking of the necklace she'd left it that bar. As she'd told him, it had been that or her wedding rings; the weddings rings that had had to be cut from her fingers later that night.

But it had been the right decisions. She had new rings, a new lease of life on her marriage with Sandy, they'd found new love, she was working on a new relationship with her boys and now she had a new baby. She'd been right to leave that necklace behind and now she had to choose again. Let it go or let this whole thing carry on secretly destabilising her marriage. She wouldn't forget Carter just as he wouldn't forget her but he was right; they didn't have any sort of socially definable relationship; just chemistry and there was no point pretending.

Plus, she didn't need the letter; she knew it off by heart now, the edges of the paper crumpled where she'd read it over and then hurriedly crammed it into its hiding place when anyone entered the house. Their relationship had been emotional rather than physical so perhaps it was best to destroy the physical reminder of it, be left with only memories and thoughts which she could bury deep within her subconscious rather than in a brightly patterned china container.

One eye on the Poolhouse where he sons were, Kirsten extracted the note, smoothed it out on the counter like she had the first time, and read it again. She could imagine him next to her, feel his breath on her skin, the kisses he'd pressed to her lips and forehead and hear his words; 'So long Kirsten.'

_So long Kirsten. So long Kirsten. So long Kirsten._

They echoed around her head. She was stood in the same place she had been then, but this time there was an empty space before her. A sob rose in her throat and she vainly fought it, her fingers closing round the paper and crushing it into her palm. She took a deep breath, and another, tears pricking her eyes for a few long seconds before her shoulders twitched involuntary and she had to bite her lip to stop herself crying.

God she wanted vodka right now.

She'd used it when he left and now it was like he was leaving again, like she was losing him again. Kirsten hurried into the living room and knelt in front of the fire, poking the crumpled paper between the logs on the fire. Sandy always lit the fire on Christmas Eve although in California it was really unnecessary. But it was tradition and made the house so cosy and festive. Of course it would be Sandy setting light to it, not her. She supposed really, if she was fully letting go it should be her but it was better this way. Sandy was the one she loved; she was with him, not Carter. He was here. Carter left. Standing back up she dusted off the knees of her trousers and rubbed the tearstains off her face. 'So long Carter.'

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Kirsten was stood back at the sink when Sandy returned, watching her sons who were engrossed in their annual Christmukkah Christmas Eve play-station championship in the Poolhouse. He left the bags on the kitchen island and slid his arms round his wife, drawing her towards him so that she fit against him, her head leaning back against his shoulder. Neither of them spoke, content to just stand together. Sandy ran his hands over her still-flat stomach and Kirsten smiled, interweaving her fingers between his. Predictably it was Sandy who broke the silence, 'After we tell them, how long do you think it will take for Seth to figure out it was you who ate all the chocolates from his advent calendar?' he asked teasingly.

Kirsten batted her husband, 'You're not to tell him; he still thinks it was a mechanical fault in the factory. Anyway it's not my fault this baby has a sweet tooth.'

'Chocoholic; obviously a girl' Sandy coughed and his wife playfully slapped him again. 'Ow woman! Those pregnancy hormones are making you violent.'

'Don't make assertions against our daughter then.'

'Hypocrite, you're asserting that she's a girl.'

'As are you.'

Sandy obviously couldn't think of a way out of that one because he retaliated by kissing Kirsten.

'Cheat,' she said, biting his lip and kissing him back.

They were interrupted a few moments later with a loud cry, 'Mom, dad, please don't ruin Christmukkah.' It was Seth.

'Oh I don't think a little kissing can ruin Christmukkah; we all know it has twice the resistance of a normal holiday.'

'Why do my words always come back to bite me in the ass?'

'Don't say ass Seth,' Kirsten interjected as she and Ryan began to put the take-out cartons onto the table.

'You're not gonna win this one,' Ryan told his brother, 'think it might take one of your Christmukkah miracles to get your parents to stop making out.'

'Well I'm praying,' Seth replied, 'hopefully Jesus and Moses are listening.'

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Later that evening they were all sat in the living room; Seth and Ryan on the floor playing endless rounds of Dreidel, more to appease Sandy with a Jewish component of the celebration rather than because they were still having fun with the game. Their parents were half sitting, half lying on the couch, their legs and hands tangled together. Kirsten rested against Sandy and listened to her sons bicker light-heartedly. She felt her husband's chest move as he chuckled at them and twisted her head to look at him. Sandy's eyes caught hers and she smiled contentedly, mouthing 'Happy Christmukkah' rather than saying it in the hope of avoiding a lecture by Seth about 'not ruining Christmukkah with all that mushiness'.

'I love you,' he mouthed back.

'Ditto.'

Seth looked up and narrowed his eyes, flicking his head from one parent to the other but unable to find anything amiss. However they were both smiling at each other a little too smugly for his liking. 'Mum, dad, what's going on?' he asked suspiciously.

'Just thinking this might be the best Christmukkah ever,' Kirsten said, widening her smile to encompass them all.

Her husband, her two sons and the last material trace of what had been between her and Carter, now in embers on the fire.

It seemed a fitting end; their chemistry had been flammable, their love, if it had got that far would have quickly burnt itself out. There was too much heat, not enough fuel. The fuel of true love rather than desperate lust, the fuel of twenty years spent together, of being almost part of another person. She and Sandy had a flame; they certainly didn't lack any passion but they were a slow burn; in it for the long haul, their love impossible to extinguish.

Tomorrow night they'd let the boys know about their sibling

Perhaps it was the _best _Christmukkah _ever_.

She had her very own fairytale right here.

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What the hell happened to this story? It got morphed by the festiveness in the air I'm sure. My Carsten-ish fic with a Kandy end suddenly became all fluffy and Kandified. I apologise. And I will write proper Carsten soon. I promise! Thank you so much for all your reviews…now I gotta go to school sob so it's goodbye from me for a while…although you know I won't be gone too long! That's not my style. (And I also have that addiction problem!)


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